Woven
by 17wolves
Summary: Bella is whisked away, quite literally, by her captor, Edward. He is a vampire who claims her to be his and after some time discovers that the longer he lingers around her, the more powerful he becomes. The only problem is, he is completely enamored by her and cannot let her go. '"Isabella," he continued, stroking her hair, "Will you be mine?"' WARNING: DARK EDWARD & LEMONS AHEAD!
1. Chapter 1

I apologize for the grammatical errors. I'm bilingual and I don't have a beta.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. **

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As she stared out her window, she noticed how dreary the days had become over the past few weeks. How every morning, she would wake to the unfortunate dismal overcast weather. Secretly, she enjoyed it. It had been so sunny lately, so hot. But now the weather was different. She liked it.

Sighing, she whipped out an old, dog-eared copy of her new favorite book and began reading away.

But as she read, her thoughts strayed. She couldn't help it. She seemed to over-analyze almost everything to the point where she would begin crying. And usually her crying was associated with her anemia. It was a good excuse to give to people. You know, the whole sob story about how her lack of iron would result in her pale skin, gaunt bodice, and constant tears which seem to appear at probably the most of inappropriate times. Like during tests or quizzes. Maybe even sometimes when she was presenting in front of her classmates, her eyes would water.

It was sad, really. Her life was sad. She was a lonely girl aching to be loved. She hated the sun, she yearned for the moon. She was a night girl. A little old bat, she was.

Sometimes, she would go as far as bundling up in the middle of the night, on a whim, to explore the forest nestled directly behind her home. Charlie would be in a deep sleep as she would close the door shut with an almost inaudible click.

She would sit and admire the environment around her. Her hands would get dirty, covered in mud and little specks of dirt and even some dead leaves would paste themselves to her rough, sweaty palms.

But she didn't mind.

It was away from her house, from her room. From everything.

And also, she would hear animals shuffling around in the night. At least she thought they were animals. They sounded like animals? Perhaps. And when she did hear them, her wandering figure would freeze and her eyes would widen in horror. She would be utterly paralyzed by fear. Then as the animal would move closer, she would sprint back home, with flushed cheeks, her long silky brunette hair flowing behind her like icy water.

And the following morning, she would awake with an aching body. She would reluctantly drag her body out of bed, drooping with exhaustion as she made her way to the bathroom to get ready for school.

Oh, school.

Isabella would undress. Slowly peeling away her night clothes. She would then stare at the purplish bruise-like circles beneath her eyes in front of the bathroom mirror, scowl when she looked at her small chest, trace the expanse of her ribs through her almost translucent skin, skimming across her fragile veins cautiously, until she reached the underside of her breasts, where directly beside them greenish-yellow bruises lay. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

_When did those come about_, she wondered.

Her breath caught in her throat when she saw two distinct bruises on her skinny little thighs, too.

Her fingers pressed down warily, she cringed, waiting for pain to take her.

And it did.

_Ouch._

They were tender. These bruises were tender and real and new and they were on her body, possibly in the most intimate of areas and she had no idea how or why they had come about— just that they had. And she couldn't do anything about them except cover them up. She immediately thought back to the forest last night. Perhaps she had fallen whilst running back to her home? Maybe. Or perhaps she hit herself unconsciously while fast asleep, trying to protect herself in the midst of her nightmares. Probably.

But Bella knew better. She never moved around in her sleep. Never. If she slept in one position at night, she would awake in the same position the following morning. Even in her sleep, she was trained to behave.

Thinning her large brown eyes, she dressed slowly. Achingly. Everything hurt.

Even her eyes burned.

She did not forget to take some iron pills as she left the vacant house. She pocketed a few more for later, just in case. Her anemia was getting worse. And it wasn't fair. After she'd eat, she'd feel faint and nauseous to the point where she no longer desired to eat ever again. She just wanted to rest. So those extra pills would do just fine.

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**Please review if this was worth your time!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

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_Light of my life,_

_Fire of my loins,_

_My sin, My soul,_

_Lo-lee-ta…_

_- _**Lolita**,Vladimir Nabokov

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Isabella kept her head down as she made her way through the crowded, heady hallways of school. Nobody paid attention to her. Why would they? After all, she was a lone girl with pale skin and eyes so light they almost looked frozen. Her cheeks weren't flushed, no. They were hollow. Her hands felt a bit numb, a little tender. The dark shadows beneath her lids bared her restless nights, her idol days. The days where she had felt most vulnerable.

But she was happy. A bit. She blended in. She was just like them, she thought. In some odd way. But in another, she stood out. And painfully, so. Like a sore thumb. And she hated it. So she ducked lower.

Her thoughts were in a mindless tangle when she abruptly slammed her shoulder against a very tall man.

"Ow." She said as the pain spread to her clavicle.

Then she did something she would regret for a long time. She looked him in the eyes. His eyes were soft. Golden and smoldering. But there was anger behind them which made her cower away in fear. Tears burnt her eyes. She felt helpless all over again.

"I-I'm s-sorry." She stammered pathetically.

He studied her for a moment, with knitted brows, full lips thinning grimly before gathering in utter repulsion. He licked his lips once and hesitated, his long cloak-like jacket swerving as the wind pounded against his back. He seemed unaffected by it. Solid. The way his eyes raked her petite, little 5'2 form once more, made her feel inexorably weak. Her knees shook. Her breath caught in her throat and she found herself sprawled against the expanse of the cold, snow-covered cement. It felt good, she mused for a moment before everything began to turn red. Blood red, she remembered. And her nimble bones softened as his hands grazed over her soft cheeks, seamless lashes, creased forehead, until it rested directly above her lips, where he could feel her dainty breaths blowing against the palm of his hand. He was cold. Oh so cold. The cold felt nice until—

Oh, until. Until those bruises began to ache. They felt as though a hot-iron had been pressed against them ruthlessly as she gasped and whimpered, convulsing as the pain took her again. Much like it had in the morning. Edward noticed this. His hands moved away from her, as if he had been burnt, as well. Then, just like that the pain disappeared, as had his frosty hands.

Words began to spill from her mouth again and again, until someone raked a hand through her hair and whispered something in her ear. An icy hand rested upon her fragile throat, tracing her jugular vein again and again. Faintly, she pondered whether someone was checking her vitals. After some time, she heard sirens and people. They shifted closer and closer. They sounded like an angry swarm of bees. She hated bees. They stung.

She groaned quietly and turned her head into the lap of whoever was supporting her weight. She didn't care at this point. Sirens began to blare as she began to drift off.

And then, as people shuffled about, a soft mouth aligned with her ear, murmuring almost inaudibly so that no one could hear,

"_Light of my life,_

_Fire of my loins,_

_My sin, My soul,_

_Bel-la…_

_Look at this tangle of thorns."_

But Bella was too far gone to hear. Alas, she had already melted into a heap of softness and aches and trembles and pains.

She was gone. Gone gone gone.

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**A/N: Please review if this was worth your time!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

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_"But, love, hate on, for now I know thy mind."_

_- _**Sonnet 149**_, _William Shakespeare

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An insistent beeping sound stirred Bella awake. Her eyes fluttered open like the wings of a butterfly. There was something pressed upon her forefinger. It felt like a clothesline pin. She took a moment to survey her surroundings. The walls were an unhealthy pale color, with pictures titled, hope and happiness, decorating the walls. If Bella had not been in the most narcotic state, she would have scoffed. There was also another bed beside her, but the drapes were pulled, concealing it from her line of sight. There was also a little old nurse scurrying around her room. And a clock. A huge gigantic clock placed directly in front of Bella and upon the wall situated opposite of her. It read 1:32 pm.

_What?_

Was this a dream? Another one of the hospital nightmares which cruelly kept her awake one night after the other? She started to panic. Her eyes were wide. This was another anemic dream, wasn't it?

_Fuck_, she thought.

Wake up wake up wake up.

The beeping sound accelerated. The thin nurse noticed her discomfort and rushed to her side, placing her hand atop hers. Her hand was cold. So cold. It seemed familiar. She liked it.

Bella, without even noticing, had taken her hand into hers, holding it and relishing in the feel of coldness and comfort. It soothed her aching bones and pattering heart.

"Are you feeling any pain?" She asked gently. She felt sorry for little Bella.

But then again, that nurse had probably seen so much, Bella was nothing in her eyes. Maybe she was faking it? No, her eyes looked torn. Bella scowled.

Isabella tried to speak, but her lips seemed to be sewn shut, tongue lolling in her mouth.

She shook her head.

"On a scale of 1 to 10," the nurse rephrased, "How much pain are you feeling?"

It took a moment for the question to register in Bella's head. She forced her mouth to move and forced her tongue to wet her dry lips before croaking out, "7."

Almost immediately the nurse went to work, pulling out a needle and asking Bella to sit up. Unwillingly, Bella obliged and felt her muscles and bones ache in protest at the sudden burdened movement.

Isabella was so far gone she hadn't even noticed the needle sink into the side of her hip. Minutes later, she drifted off into a deep, sullen sleep for which she was thankful for.

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"… syncope. She lacks red blood cells, Edward. Anemia, it is. She has not been taking care of herself. If you had not saved her, she would have needed blood transfusions every other week. Luckily, we have found a way to keep her illness at bay. These pills—they're iron supplements. She had not been taking them. And because anemia is a condition marked by a deficiency of hemoglobin in the blood, resulting in pallor and weariness, the sudden changes in her nervous system and circulatory system caused a temporary drop in the amount of blood reaching the brain. And as a result, she fainted."

This medical jargon stirred Bella awake. Her head was throbbing.

Slowly, she noticed that she was in a different room now. Patches were attached to the juncture of her arm. She cringed at the sight, feeling lightheaded as she let out a soft mewl.

The two men who spoke animatedly before her jerked their heads toward her at the same time. Then, they both proceeded to exchange some sort of unfathomable expression she couldn't quite distinguish.

A man in a white coat approached her gently, smiling. The first thing she noticed was how white his teeth were. The second thing she noticed was how tall and handsome he was. Her eyes widened hungrily at the sight. It was a beautiful sight for Bella's eyes to devour.

The other tall blurred figure stood in place.

"Isabella," the handsome doctor acknowledged, "I'm Dr. Carlisle Cullen. You seem to have fainted at school today. How are you feeling?"

_Fainted? Well, fuck._

His forehead crinkled and his light blue shirt really complemented his eyes. Golden eyes. Where had she seen such beautiful orbs before?

Bella's eyes thinned as she collected her thoughts and answered him.

"Good." Her voice cracked. She was lying. And, she wasn't very good. He could tell.

Dr. Cullen's cool palm extended forward, gently placing his palm upon her forehead in a fatherly manner. Her frail hand balled into a tight fist, scrunching the soft hospital blanket as she shut her eyes, exhaling for a moment before preparing herself for the pity that was to come. Bella had that affect on people. She was so tiny and small, even at seventeen she looked about fourteen maybe fifteen. Possibly even younger.

"Bella," Dr. Cullen pulled Isabella from her nonsensical muses, eyes snapping open at his serious tone, "Does your father know about your condition?"

"Charlie?" She stuttered, stalling. Her eyes searched around the room for a moment.

"Yes, Chief Swan." He stressed. Her eyes widened in fear as she looked back at him.

Someone clothed in all-black slinked into eyesight behind Dr. Cullen. Even in her most narcotic state, Bella caught sight of the blurred figure from her peripheral vision. At the very sight, Isabella's heartbeat thrummed in her ears as she felt a cool sensation fill her cheeks. And then, oh and then, her cheeks flushed and her eyes began to water. She felt heated all over, her body broke out into a cold sweat and she struggled to maintain her composure.

_Fuck being anemic._

"Yes." She lied much too quickly. But immediately corrected herself. She wouldn't want Charlie to get in trouble because of her.

"I mean, really Dr. Cullen…?," she asked hesitantly. He nodded his head for her to continue, and she did, explaining, "Dr. Cullen. It's my fault. I've been forgetting to take my iron pills for the last 3 months. I-I mean I have, but not continuously, no. I'm so sorry."

Dr. Cullen sighed and the blurred figure behind him shifted back into place.

Dr. Cullen threw a passive glance behind his shoulder before sighing once more and pulling out a clipboard, scribbling furiously at the paper attached to it.

"Alright, Isabella." She scowled at her name and debated whether or not to correct him inwardly but thought against it. It seemed that she'd already angered him. "Isabella, I will prescribe you with a daily dose Venofer. That should help clear things up for a while. Come back for a check-up in about two weeks. Nurse Jackie will help you with that right over there," he said, waving at the kind woman with cold hands, before adding, "Get some sleep when you get home. You seem a bit sleep-deprived. Also, it seems as though you haven't been eating right either, have you?" Bella opened and closed her mouth several times, her mind rejecting the information given to her. He shook his head, smirking, as he scribbled once more, "Some red meat, dark, leafy greens, dried fruit, and iron-enriched cereals and grains should do the trick."

He paused for a moment, smiling up at a discombobulated Bella, "It was nice meeting you, Isabella," he extended his hand. She shook it meekly. "I hope to see you soon."

She smiled faintly as her eyes followed his retreating figure intently until she could no longer spot him.

Abruptly, she threw her hospital gown covered legs over the bed and took her IV into hand as it rolled steadily behind her.

She needed to leave as soon as possible. She also needed to see Jake.

But in her burdened, struggled attempts to leave the hospital so quickly, she'd forgotten the narcotic state she was currently in. And as soon as her feet met the floor, she collapsed, cringing as her soft pliable body clashed against the stone, hard floor.

She moaned in frustration and soon was momentarily stunned, gasping as two strong hands lifted her up.

"And where do you think you're going?" An amused voice asked from behind her.

His voice was so deep; it reverberated throughout her body and lit her nerves on fire. It made her dizzy. She closed her eyes for a moment, swaying.

Bella gripped his shirt unconsciously, steadying herself before staring up at his grinning face. He was an angel. He was the devil. So soft so pure, his features were simply androgynous, other-worldly really. But, his eyes. That smirk. So tempting. So cruel. They were smiling down at her. He had the oddest hair color she'd ever seen. Bronze, it was. It matched him. He looked like a lion.

He chuckled at her lack of speech, "Oh come on, Isabella," he teased, whispering so lowly for her ears only, "You must think some_thing_." No, that didn't sound like teasing to her. It did, but it wasn't a sneer. It was a demand. A low dark, malicious demand. She didn't miss the double-meaning behind it either.

Isabella's hands fell to her sides as if they'd been electrocuted. She took a shaky step backward as his eyes raked her form hungrily, over and over again.

She began to tremble though she knew it had nothing to do with her anemic state. He keenly noticed.

"W-what is your name?"

"Edward."

"Well, Edward, I'm afraid I must go—"

"Have you forgotten who saved your life when you had fainted?"

"I-I'm sorry?" She couldn't concentrate on his words. His eyes were staring into hers so intently, she felt as though she was on fire. Then, in the midst of all the havoc, her stomach gave a sharp churn. She gripped it acutely. He had taken notice of that too, eyes following her wrist.

"You owe me, Isabella."

_You owe me your soul._

"What do you want?" Her voice seemed comically strong in comparison to her weak form; he had to give her that.

He smirked and now it was Bella's turn to look him over. Black jeans, boots, and a plain black washed out shirt clung to his lanky yet oddly muscular build. He had pouty red lips and the palest skin she'd ever seen. His hair was a mess. He looked boyish, to be quite honest. But he was confident and smooth, everything she was not. A pang of jealousy shot through her. He licked his lips slowly, and her eyes followed the silky, venomous path his tongue left on them. He knew she was watching him. He knew he had this frail child, this lifeless, virgin doll all for himself, twirling in the palm of his hand. All in good time, would she be his. Edward smirked at his succession, his _possession_ before composing himself.

"I want you, Isabella."

Silence followed.

A gasp.

And then, something went _cling, clang, clung,_ and fell to the floor, shattering, as his words echoed in Bella's head over and over again. She whimpered as she felt a sharp sting in her arm, the pain piercing her much too frail heart which thumped deliciously for him.

The sounds of insistent beeping greeted her ears once more. People huddled around her again. God, can't they just leave her alone? Her last thought seemed to be a slur as she found herself placed before the translucent mirror of dreams. And once again, she let the mirror take her to the fairest land of all.

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**A/N: Please review if you want me to continue this story!**


	4. Chapter 4

**What do you guys think of my story? Is it good? Please let me know :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

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Her bones ached. The muscles in her neck contracted painfully as she moved. Behind closed lids, Bella could tell there was no source of light streaming in and inwardly she panicked.

The room was cold, chilly. It felt good upon her heated skin.

She sighed in contentment, relishing in the cool feel that spread across her damp forehead. She raised her head, inching closer to the coolness and moaned in protest as it suddenly vanished.

Warily, she opened her heavy eyes, greeting utter darkness. Only the sullen moon lit her room…? Was she home?

A shuffling noise startled her. She gasped and the sudden spike of her heart rate rang in her ears.

"Shhh. Shh. Bella."

Isabella must've been mumbling or struggling or perhaps she had been wailing. One or the other, it no longer mattered for someone was beside her, gripping her upper arms tightly. Bella sputtered for a moment, incapable of producing rational thought. She gathered herself before widening her eyes and staring open-mouthed at the figure beside her.

It was him. The tall lanky boy she had seen in the hospital.

It was _him._

Almost immediately, she shuffled out of bed, scurrying off to the side of the room and helplessly pasting herself to the wall closest to her, trying to, in an almost painfully noticeable way, escape his wrath. His presence.

His red eyes penetrated hers, "_Bella_."

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Bella awoke with a start. Her body had broken out into a cold sweat. She felt famished and fatigued as she tried to remember what had happened the day prior to forget the nightmare. The forest, sleep, school, the golden-eyed boy, the cold, snow-covered cement floor, the hospital… Dr. Cullen's prescription, oh, it was all settling in now. But who had brought her home?

She dismissed the idea, feeling certain that Charlie had.

The sullen, early morning light filtered into her room, lighting her face. Her skin was clear as the moon, soft as a petal. Her eyes drooped with exhaustion and sleep-deprivation and something else. No blush lit her cheeks, as always. Her eyes – dead. They were beautifully half-lidded, but they _were_ dead.

Sighing, Bella took a chance. She slid herself off her bed and stumbled into the bathroom, giggling because she did that every morning. It had already become some sort of religious routine.

Isabella brushed her teeth, washed her face, applied some skin care products and was out the door, feeling crappier than before. Her head buzzed as she made her way back to her room, happy that she had a room, after all.

Tibetan prayer flags hung from the walls, little cranes did, too. A large world map, an ancient map of Italy and one of Paris, too adorned her walls. Her desk was neat and tidy. Well, a bit. But from the lack of inactivity at school and the house, It had been piled up with homework Charlie, no doubt, had placed for her to complete since she had missed some days of school because of her condition.

At the sudden thought of her condition, Bella felt the need to lie down again. Her head was spinning. Her stomach muscles clenched dramatically. She groaned at the awful sensation. Then something else happened. Something peculiar.

Those bruises which adorned her body throbbed repeatedly. It felt as if her energy was being drained from her and severely so. And before she could open her mouth to scream at the overwhelming sensation, someone opened the door.

"Bells?"

Charlie.

"Dad!"

"Bells, how've you been, honey?"

Charlie looked a bit disheveled, dressed in casual clothing. A plaid shirt, a pair of jeans, some boots. He looked good considering he'd been living on his own for quite some time now. Not bad. Healthy. He looked fit, is all.

He cautiously sat next to her, at the edge of the bed, respecting her privacy. After all, that's what she liked most about Charlie. He didn't hover.

But Bella, being the overtly self-conscious girl she was, immediately draped the covers over her gaunt form and tried to look alive.

"I've been good, Dad. How's work? Aren't you late?" She cringed at her apathetic voice. She sounded like a robot. With dead eyes, she stared blindly at the watch which hung on a wall directly behind Charlie's head. Her eyes were frozen. She couldn't help it. Her mind was racing a hundred miles a minute.

"Took a day off," And before Bella could open her mouth to protest, Charlie spoke soundly, as if afraid to frighten her away or to break the streak of silence which had spread across the sullen room, "You scared me there, kiddo. What were you thinking? Why hadn't you been taking your iron pills?"

Isabella eyed Charlie blankly for a moment, blinking twice before simply answering, "I forgot."

She sounded so young, so forgetful, so innocent although her voice was tainted with apathy. It was so moving that it made Charlie, the most unemotional of all, run his hand through her hair awkwardly and tilt her chin for a moment so that she could look into his eyes.

"Oh, Bella. Always so stubborn, just like you mother," he said exasperatedly, "You should get some sleep, kiddo. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow." He gestured toward the pile of homework stacked upon her desk, "Get that finished today, alright? I'll check on you in a couple of minutes. I'll make you some soup, is tea good?"

"No, Dad," she protested, "I'm fine. Honestly."

"Soup, it is." His efforts at making her laugh worked as she cracked a wide smile, shaking her head.

"I can see where I get my stubbornness from. You, dad."

"Yea," he stood awkwardly, preparing himself to leave. He also had a long day ahead of him, "Love you."

"Love you, dad." And with that, he was out the door.

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Bella sighed in utter relief as he shut the door behind him, feeling her stomach stir again. The pain which was nestled against the apex of her legs, died down a bit. It only pulsed now. Repeatedly.

"Ow." She whimpered, sinking lower into the sheets.

After Bella contemplated whether or not she should shower, her door inched open slowly as Charlie made his way in carefully, carrying a tray of soup, cold water, bread, and some tea. Isabella shook her head as he neared, eyeing the two pills at the edge of the tray.

_Not again._

"Drink this up, you need the strength. You can't afford to miss another day of school, Bells." Charlie said somberly.

"H-how many days of school have I missed?"

"3."

"Oh _God_." She groaned, palming her head, "The kids at school are probably having a field day over this."

He sighed, "You should call your mother… tell her everything's okay. She's been worried about you."

"Are you serious?" Now it was Bella's turn to sigh, "Where's my phone? She's probably freaking out. Thanks, Dad."

He shrugged and left the room with his hands in his pockets after setting the tray on the nightstand.

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After the phone call with her mother, Bella realized it was just about time to finish up her homework. Three days worth of homework. She groaned. Then sighed and got to work.

And after about four hours of furious scribbling and reading, she noticed a piece of paper peeking out from one her English books. Cautiously, she lifted her arm, trying to ignore how deathly gaunt it looked from the corner of her eye, and opened the flimsy sheet.

Her eyes widened as they read what was written, in tiny, neat penmanship:

_You are mine._

The paper flitted from her fingers. Her heart rate spiked. Her stomach churned and her body vibrated. She felt violated. She felt sick and before she knew it, everything she had consumed right before she had started completing her assignments, exited her body from her mouth. She was thankful her legs still worked. Charlie would not have been happy with the mess she would have made.

Bella wiped the corner of her mouth with her wrist in a daze, her other hand gripping the rim of the toilet in her weak state.

The words floated in her head once more, her dreams, reality – everything had intermingled. She couldn't decipher what was real and what was not. But there was one thing she was absolutely sure of – Edward was real. He was real and he had written that note. He had haunted her restlessly in her dreams. He was also the one who had saved her. But she wondered; had he saved her so that he could torture her? Was that his main purpose? Why? Why her?

Her head throbbed now with her hypothetically nonsensical assumptions and pointless accusations. They just had no end, did they?

And to top it off, not only did her head spin, but her stomach began flipping and she felt foreign moisture gather between her legs. Warily, she slid her pajamas down and groaned at the sight.

Blood greeted her eyes. Her period. She had just gotten her period.

_No,_ she thought,_ not this. _

Quickly, she shed whatever piece of clothing clung to her body still, too weak and drained to realize her sudden bare form. She didn't have much to reveal anyway.

Sighing, she retrieved a pad and new cotton underwear from the bathroom drawer, always keeping a spare handy for times like these. After finishing up, she realized that her hands were trembling.

She cursed herself once more_. Get a hold of yourself, Bella. You've been through much worse, kid. _

And now as this passed her mind, she wondered why good things happened to bad people. And why bad people never suffered for their faults. How they always lived a good life. How they always had it their way.

She came to conclude that, nowadays, she lives in a sick world. And nothing will ever change that. Not even if those bad people were to fade. She will never forget the things they've done to her and many others. She will never forget.

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**A/N: Please review if you want me to continue this story!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Excuse the grammatical errors here. I wrote this last night at around one in the morning. And to clear some things up -**

**1. Edward is a vampire. He has golden eyes, not red. But in Bella's ****_dream_**** he did have red eyes. Not in reality, though.**

**2. Bella got her period. It's a natural thing. She's not trying to sabotage anyone. (Didn't mean for that to sound harsh)**

**3. Bella must take her iron pills, correct. But she's a forgetful little girl. And as you can tell, she's always thinking. Hence, why she forgot to take her iron supplements before fainting when she saw Edward or when he approached her or whatever.**

**4. Bad people, the bruises, and is Bella truly anemic or is Edward feeding from her at night? She is anemic. As for everything else, I can't really say. You have to follow along with each update to find out.**

**More questions? Feel free to message me.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

**Warning: This chapter is not for the faint of heart.**

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Bella found herself scrawled across her bed as if she had bustled her way onto it after a long, hard day at work. Only, she had just finished three days worth of high school homework. And she had been tired.

She remembered she had dozed off at around 4am. And now it was 6:03am. Barely two hours of sleep. Huh. What was Dr. Cullen's instruction again? That's right, _get some sleep_. Like that's ever going to happen.

Bella didn't dare glance at herself in the mirror. She dressed blindly for school, in some rain boots, a thick wool sweater along with some thick socks. She loved the winter. Loved the smell of rain. At first, she hadn't. But after some time, her body grew accustom to the strange weather patterns Forks had to offer. And she took it.

Isabella missed breakfast, but she did sit in the kitchen for some time admiring the deep forest from the kitchen window. Feeling suddenly heated, she pressed her palm against the thick, solid glass. The heat from her hand settled against the pane, imprinting itself before fading away. It felt cool and right.

It was time to go, she concluded.

Her drive to school was uneventful as always. She listened to the sound of her favorite artist crackle form the old, rusty radio. Her eyes started to water once more.

And now, as she parked, she felt the eyes of others penetrate her form over and over again.

But she didn't mind it. She was already used to the peculiar stares.

"Bella." Her eyes, which had been glued to the shiny, black pavement snapped toward the voice.

It was Edward. His hair was red and wind-blown. He looked absolutely disheveled yet utterly decent, formal. But his forehead was crinkled, eyes weary. She counted the creases.

"Yes." Her voice sounded choked, almost mute. Her eyes were long gone as they stared back at his face. His perfectly angelic face. How can such a beautiful man like him desire her? What did he see in her? Why did he want her?

It seems as though Bella had completely forgotten about the nightmares, hospital, notes, distress Edward had caused her in such a short amount of time. No. It was only him and her now, in their own little bubble, in their own little world away from the world. Yes. That was exactly it.

"So fragile," he palmed her cheek carefully, completely transfixed. Bella flesh heated beneath the touch of his fingers. They were cold and icy. She winced at the temperature.

She froze, averting her eyes. Maybe if she didn't see him, she'd forget that he was standing before her. Sort of like that infamous saying,

_Out of sight, out of mind._

He smirked to himself, tilting her chin higher so that she could look into his eyes forcefully. How could she forget those golden smoldering eyes of his? The expression Edward wore was a bit off, though. A cross between arrogance and possession. He looked at her like he owned her. Mind, body and soul. And perhaps he did and she just didn't know it yet.

His eyes remained thin and skeptical, reading hers fluently. Amazing, really. She hadn't spoken one word and he had already read her like an open book.

She wasn't very good at hiding her emotions.

Her legs shifted impatiently beneath her, she was too short and he, too tall. Her neck was being strained in the position he held her in, muscles twitching, having grown tired.

"Like a porcelain doll," he crooned before her, sliding his frosty palm lower until he reached and cupped her neck. She flinched involuntarily at the cool feel of his hands pulling her closer to him. Yet all the while, she made not a sound.

"Come with me."

A loud whooshing sound progressed from behind Isabella and as it grew closer, her ears began to pop and crackle, as if she were everything had been filtered through an old, tarnished radio. The world whirled around her and her eyes began to drift shut.

_No_, she thought through all the haze, _not again_.

_Fight it, Bella._

But, she couldn't.

And so Edward's face blurred before her. His voice seemed afar as he spoke. As the words stuck to her flesh, she realized she had broken into a sudden cold sweat. And that now, she was shaking. Was someone shaking her?

"_No_." She smacked the forehead of the individual who threatened to bother her as she dozed off with the heel of her palm, driving them away with a surprising amount of force. Why aren't they letting her fall sleep?

Her head lulled against the being which held her close. The fabric of their shirt was soft and itchy. She spread her fingers against it before clinging to it desperately. Bella felt an odd sensation for a fleeting moment, as if she were floating, before everything had eventually faded into black.

* * *

The first sensation Bella remembered upon awakening was an excruciating pain pulsing through her system. Why was she always in an endurable amount of pain? And, where was she?

Her heavy lids scanned the foreign room. There was a large stereo placed against the far right of the room with a door next to it. It looked like a bathroom door. Sunlight streamed through the large windows on the opposite side, a sofa deposited along the length of the window. And then directly in front of her, along an ever so long path away lay another door adorned with complex chains and locks. She automatically assumed it was the exit.

_Where was she?_

Immediately, her mind backtracked to the day before. Oh, man. _Was_ it a day before? She couldn't remember and in the midst of all the haze, she felt the bolts of those locks clinking and clanking and before she knew it, someone had entered the room.

To say that she was terrified would have been a rather pathetic understatement.

She was absolutely _paralyzed_ in fear. Her poor heart raced in her ears. Thank God she had been lying down on the bed or else she would have dropped to the floor.

Long fingers skimmed the lines of the bed cautiously as the carpet caught every step the stranger took closer and closer toward Bella. And with each step, she inched lower and lower into the comfortable sheets, gripping the soft, virgin cotton with her tiny palms.

"Isabella."

Her ears rang. She knew exactly who that velvety voice belonged to.

_Edward._

_Fuck me_, she thought, _I have the worst luck ever._

"Oh Isabella," he continued, stroking her hair, "Will you be mine?"

She had hardened in place. Little trembles rippled through her body. She was afraid.

And when she did not answer, he continued, placing his lips against her ear, "Sweet girl, are you feeling alright?"

She shut her eyes tightly and shook her head, trying to remain apathetic when his lips glided down the length of her neck, shoulders tensing when he began to place butterfly kisses along her clavicle.

Now, he had passed the limit. Abruptly, Bella sat up, catching Edward off guard.

"How long have I been here?"

Edward's eyes widened in disbelief, before chuckling and saying, "You are full of many surprises."

His body shook with laughter as Bella sulked before him, feeling utterly exhausted. She did not want to be another one of his play things. They were many stories of them, stories involving Tanya, Victoria, Jessica, Lauren, and the list goes on. And she simply did not wish to be another story.

"How long are you planning to keep me here?" Her hand dragged down her face. She was annoyed.

"As long as I wish."

"What about school?"

"Oh, do not be silly, Isabella," he taunted, smiling; "I will teach you."

She resisted the overwhelming urge to scream.

"This is not happening," she groaned to herself as she melted into the sheets beneath her.

"Oh, but it is. You belong to me, sweet girl. Now behave and speak only when spoken to or else there will be consequences, understand?" Edward's hand skimmed up the length of her right leg. She gasped and closed her eyes.

_Oh, God. No._

It was only then that Bella realized she was wearing nothing but a man's crisp, white suit shirt which was buttoned all the way to the top and much too big on her. It seemed to reach her mid-thighs. But the underwear. Oh, someone had changed it. She now wore a pink ruffled lace boy-short type of underwear with a little black bow tie in the middle. It didn't reveal much but it was still underwear, doll-like and innocent.

"I see you've taken notice of your new attire," he paused, admiring it, "Do you like it?"

Edward's icy fingers left a heated trail across Bella's lips before descending lower where the little bow was located. She gasped as his fingers skimmed across it.

"You changed my clothes." Her voice trembled and her eyes began to water.

_This was _not _happening._

"Oh, my lovely girl. Do not weep," he cooed before palming my cheeks, "Such an innocent creature like you should not stain her cheeks with sadness."

She gripped his upper arms as he straddled his legs so that she could not move. She pushed and pulled at him, violently gripping his hair and trying to rip it out or cause some sort of reaction from him. He uttered not a word. His eyes remained on her. If anything, he seemed hurt and betrayed in some way. She felt bad. Her efforts were futile. And so she dropped her hands to her side.

"Edward," she was gasping now, she had grown tired, "P-please. Y-you c-can't do this, Edward. Please. Please… Edward!" She shook him almost violently now.

Still unaffected, he lowered his head until it was nestled against the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply. Bella gasped at the foreign sensation.

"You smell absolutely _divine_, my young girl." Somewhere along the way, she felt his tongue poke out and lick where her heart hammered again and again, groaning as he did so.

The sound left her head spinning. She felt uncomfortable beneath him. So helpless, so lonely. Tired, afraid. She also felt a foreign sensation. One that pulsed continuously between her legs. She tried to avoid it to the best of her abilities.

"Oh?" He said, quirking his brows, "Is my pretty little Isabella aroused?" He smirked wickedly before moving closer to her trembling form. Edward gripped the thin, frilly fabric of her bottoms and gave a slight tug. Bella gasped as she wasn't used to the touch of others, especially Edward's. The way his hands grazed over the flimsy material, her skin, her bare arms, promised something more. Something she would not look forward to, no doubt. And his movements. Oh, his movements. They were cat-like, predatory at best. The way his hair stroked Isabella's forehead as he bent lower, toward her stomach, teasing the sides of her hips, lips almost aligning with her supple flesh. But not quite. Always keeping his little Isabella in a wanton, burdened state until she couldn't handle it anymore. Until she had grown numb with the sensation of dissatisfaction. She was frankly tired of being teased as she was experiencing quite possibly the worst type of teasing. Teasing from a very attractive, intelligent man. Who, nevertheless, made her feel like a little, willing harlot. Debasing her with his lingering kisses, longing stares…

_But do his actions really make him attractive,_ Bella thought. _Do his words make him attractive?_

She didn't know.

And then she was back to square one again. Confused and disoriented as this strange man violated her.

"Tell me." His rough voice broke the silence between them. She swayed wearily in bed, her lids drooping. She didn't feel so good.

_Was this just another dream?_

Her harmless muses seemed to be accompanied by an incessant ringing which droned out the world around her.

Edward sensed this. And he loved every aching second of it.

"Tell me, Isabella… has a man ever touched you like this?" He palmed the ruffled cloth.

Bella noticeably flinched in bed, yelping as she did so. He did it on purpose. She had to stay awake somehow.

He chuckled at her drunken, sleep-deprived state and placed a searing yet very chaste, congratulatory kiss right below her ear. Bella crinkled her little button nose in protest, shivering as his breath coated her skin.

"Tell me," he said for the third time, palming her roughly now.

She felt so violated, so dirty when she opened her mouth to speak.

"No."

It was like music to his ears. Sweet, delicious music. Just like her blood. Just like how it sang to him, begging him to drink her. Begging him to take her. Possess her. Make her his.

_His._

He made a sound at the back of his throat. It sounded as though he was listening to her although his hands wandered lower, lower, until it reached—oh. Oh, no.

Her eyes began to water and it was not from anemia. This time they were real tears, tumbling down her cheeks. Big fat tears they were. She palmed her faced, horrified. She didn't want this.

"Please stop." She begged, pleaded even.

Edward had frozen in place, which meant his palm was still pressed against her entrance. Very slowly, he dipped one finger in, moaning as he felt the tightness that was her.

"_Fuck_," he cursed gruffly, "You're bleeding."

Bella began to sob helplessly against him, feeling utterly spent. She did not wish to fight physically for she knew she was no match for him. She would just end up harming herself in the process anyway and she quite simply was not prepared for another round of physical torment. Now was the time for mental torment, perhaps the worst torment of all.

And so, just like that, yet again, Bella's eyelids drooped with exhaustion until finally the world around her faded into complete darkness.

* * *

**A/N: Please review if you want me to continue this story!**


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I am so sorry about this late update.

Also, please excuse the grammatical errors - I have no beta.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

* * *

His eyes raked over the soft curves of her feminine body. So small, so fragile, he mused as he traced down the intricate veins along her wrist, and up her arm with a parched throat, aching to quench his thirst with her essence pulsing through her system continuously, mocking him, no doubt.

She was his yes, but in a way, so was he. He belonged to her as she was his sustenance, perhaps figuratively as well.

It would not be long now. The beat of her heart was slow, audibly frail. She only had a few days left.

Edward didn't want to but did he have a choice? He chanced a glance toward her mangled form, eyes softening as he studied her features before drifting toward the fragile disarray of arms and legs, tangled amidst the white sheets. She was bare and pale and bleeding. All for him. Her smooth waves enveloped the expanse of the pillowcase, unfurling, curling here and there as a generous amount tumbled down her back. The sea of raven black staining white immaculacy. He noticed that even in her dreams, she looked like a goddess. Or perhaps a princess as she too small to be resemble a deity. Though some stray locks did conceal her face, she failed to veil her innocence from her, demure present even in her slumber.

_What a tempting creature, she is_.

Soon, his hand drifted over her delicate form, slipping what hair had been hiding her away, sighing softly as her whispy pale face met his. She was a beauty. A frail one, at that. But death was much too close for her. It's what made Edward stand and seek Jasper's help. Someone he once considered a friend, a brother but as time elapsed, he soon became an acquaintance and now he is a mere stranger. But he is the only one Edward knows who can save Isabella's life.

* * *

Having not slept well all night, Isabella awoke rather violently. Her legs jerked beneath her, having been one of those frightening free fall nightmares, but her tears ran dry this time. Too tired and sore to help herself up, she lay quietly in bed, studying the angles at which the muted sunlight streamed from the windows, and taking keen notice of the frosty temperature of the room. Her loud breathing indicated her distress, her illness, and her fatigue. Also, her loneliness. It was much too quiet. And, eerily so.

Soon, her eyes began to drift shut, almost _feeling _the soft sensation of being pulled into the valley of dreams, immediately interrupted by the sound of a door creaking open.

To her dismay, it was Edward. He stood straight, adorned in his usual black attire although this time; he seemed a bit more formal than usual. His hair was combed and he didn't know what to do with his hands.

It took him just two strides to get to her. He sat next to her in bed, pushing her hair back and pulling her up toward him. Isabella didn't resist simply because she couldn't. She was much too tired to play his little games and had been unwillingly pulled from her almost afternoon nap. She was very irritable indeed.

Isabella had come to the conclusion that fearing Edward was something she simply could not do. Why would she want to live her life in fear if she had already come to the understanding that her days on Earth were numbered? She had become a lifeless rag doll in his hands now as he carefully picked her up and held her close.

Her stomach twisted which made her turn her head as she reluctantly clutched onto Edward's shirt, whimpering into his shoulder. He patted her back soothingly and asked where she was hurting. She spoke not a word, rather spread her legs further against him, wincing, feeling the ragged material of his jeans chafe the softness which was her. Blood had stained the center of the expensive, dark washed pants he had on. He looked also, passively, apathetically, as Bella gasped again, feeling her insides roll. It made her nauseas.

Sensing her distress, he gathered her closer and palmed her cheek. Stubbornly, she refused to look at him although his finger tilted her chin up. Defiantly, her eyes glared at the dark mark between both his and her legs. Her lips quivered not with guilt and embarrassment but with extreme loss.

"A friend of mine is coming over today. I expect you to be on your best behavior, Isabella. Do you hear me?"

Edward quirked an eyebrow at her and from the corner of her eye, she saw. He knew she saw.

"Yes." She whispered back.

She stared lifelessly as he held her hand to his mouth, kissing it lightly. Is that the best he can do? The best comfort he could offer?

As he left the room to change into another outrageously pricey pair of trousers, Isabella melted into the sheets. Her blood had undoubtedly stained the sheets by now. The damage was noticeable.

He was back before she could slip into another fit of dreams. She pushed him away when he tried to lift her from bed. She didn't need his help. But once her feet touched the floor, they curled beneath her. Before she could cringe from the impact, Edward had already gathered her close and lifted her in his arms. Some tears did escape now, landing on his shirt. She wondered if he'd change it, as well.

As Edward carried her toward the dresser, Isabella inwardly mourned for herself. She felt sorry for herself. She was weak, pale, so pale, and skinny. Bone thin, to the point where sleeping had become a painful act as her hip bones would dig into the mattress and her spine and tailbone would ache if she lay straight for too long. Edward had noticed this as well, but it wasn't his fault that he was draining her of her energy. He didn't care. Yes, he was infatuated with her. With how she belonged to him and was no one else's, but what made him want her was her blood. She was a beauty…but now she had turned into a ghost-like creature. She was hollow. Gaunt and translucent despite the fact that she did have her feisty moments, which he couldn't help but admire. Even in her most fragile state, she refused to submit to him.

She felt him open the wardrobe and heard him rummaging through racks and racks of old clothing. She wished she could see them but she was being held in the opposite direction. The only view she had was the white bed and red marks.

"Here we are, sweet girl." He had chosen a dress but she couldn't see.

He placed the dress on the bed (which still remained out of sight) walking towards the bathroom now.

She brushed her teeth as he held her in place, towering over her like a large building. Either she was unusually small or he inexorably big. Angered by the thought, she slammed her toothbrush down on the counter with what little energy she had.

"There's no time for your dramatic little outbursts, Isabella. You must eat now and dress."

Again, he carried her back to bed and laid her softly upon it

"Do not resist me, Isabella, unless no longer wish to see light of day."

Suddenly, his cold lips were at her stomach, gliding up toward the curve of her neck. She gasped at the abruptness of his actions.

He smirked at his success. He needed to distract her somehow, anesthetize her and this was precisely the right way to achieve it.

His tongue made quick work of both her breasts, her chest heaving, burdened, desperately trying to fill her lungs with air. His lips came back to her neck, where he lapped continuously at her jugular vein, over and over until he felt her writhing beneath him.

When his cold hands grasped her hips, she jumped, gasping at the iciness. It felt as though someone poured ice-cold water over her. Warmth emanated from her now. Edward smirked. He had her in the palm of his hand. They were polar opposites but gave each other what the other ultimately needed. But as they gave, they also took. And he, through this act of sin, sought not only her blood, but her life energy which he took continuously from her, seeing bruises form on her thighs, a painful mixture of yellowish-blue hues spotting her translucent flesh. He did not feel any ounce of guilt or hunger. He just _wanted_ her. To gain strength and dispose of her.

If only she knew.

* * *

**A/N: I will post the next chapter in a day or so (it's A LOT longer - let's hope it stays that way.) In the meantime, please feel free to review and share your thoughts about this chapter!**


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